Young Writers Society

Pratik stepped forward and filled the glass, before taking his place along the wall once again.

He needed to get command of his emotions before he did anything at all. The only time things went badly for him was when he rushed into something because he was angry. He was the dangerous force here. He just needed to think clearly about what his next moves were going to be.

"You." Tarr rounded on Pratik. "Have you served another one of the Lords before? Ash or Loquitur."

Pratik glanced up, startled he was being addressed. Was this a test? He'd been told not to speak. But... "No, sir."

"Hmf." He downed the glass again, once more thrusting it towards Pratik.

Several long minutes later Utrid returned.
"The attendants have prepared her for you, sir," he said. "Do take your time; I'll be waiting for you down here."
"Good man." Tarr clapped Utrid so hard on the shoulder that the older man stumbled. "Don't wait up." He stalked out the door, slamming it behind him. Utrid visibly relaxed when he'd gone and hurried to the desk to read over the letter himself.

Pratik filled the cup.

What a fucking idiot.

'You -- slave -- did one of the men who do not keep slaves, have you as a slave?'

Pratik saw Utrid relax as Tarr left; he did the opposite. His entire body went tense, jaw clenching as he glared at the door. He took a step towards it. Fuck calming down. He'd fucking take whatever consequences he had coming.

Utrid scanned the letter and set it down. "Gods, he's really stepped in it this time. Loquitur's keeping his daughter, that much is certain. He seemed a level headed fellow; he must be betting on Lord Tarr listening to the king--should the king refuse." He rubbed his brow. "This could be it. This could be the end for this House if Tarr goes to war and Ash backs his brother."

Pratik stopped midstride as he took another step towards the door. Fuck.

There was a bigger game here that he needed to continue being a key player in. Who knew how many other innocent people would get raped or murdered in the fallout of the war, that he wouldn't be able to help at all, if he took an arrow to the neck as he was leaving this Keep after killing Tarr.

"You think Ash would help his sworn enemy?" Pratik asked. He hadn't had time to study Ash well enough to know if he had even a single drop of brotherly affection that would prove this to be true.

"Ash and Loquitur are warring now, but they're brothers before they're enemies," Utrid said. "And Ash has a reputation for putting family first. If he thinks Lyra's dignity was damaged or if she was harmed in any way, I wouldn't be surprised if he put aside his disagreement with Loquitur for the moment and turned his attention to Tarr. We need to prevent a war or abandon ship. If King Harold denies the request we might have a fighting chance against the boy's impulse. If not, well." He chuckled humorlessly. "I can keep dangling whores in front of him and manage military affairs on my own."

Pratik slammed the bottle of mead on the desk, anger surging through him again. "Women." Pratik snarled. "Innocent fucking women. That you're okay with him fucking raping?"

Utrid looked up in surprise. "You take issue with that? Better them than the whole territory crumbling under his poor decisions. Besides, this is war. There are bound to be a few casualties. I'd have thought you'd have thicker skin than that, Aren." He shuffled through Tarr's papers. "They're slaves; it's what they're there for."

Pratik turned loose of the bottle of mead -- before he caved in to the impulse to throw it straight at Utrid's face.

Thicker skin his ass. Saving a girl from getting raped was what got him started in becoming a killer in the first place. He'd be damned if he sat back and watched it happen.

"You want me to rape you right now?" Pratik hissed. "That a casualty you'd be okay with?"

"You wouldn't get one hand on me before I gutted you like a pig," Utrid said calmly, patting his sword. "Control yourself. You're only alive right now because I'm allowing it, and it's not impossible for me to change my mind." He looked back at the documents, pausing on a copy of the letter Pratik had found a few weeks before that detailed Tarr asking Count Sheppard to send an assassin out.

He was definitely going to kill both of the bastards.

Utrid had just decided that -- irrevocably.

His pride screamed at him to show Utrid exactly who he was fucking messing with. Pratik could get over the desk with his hands around Utrid's throat before the asshole could even think about clearing his sword from the sheath.

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

This wasn't going to go well for him -- if he tried to take down the entire Keep by himself. Utrid and Tarr both underestimated him -- which was good for him. It'd make it easier to shove their tongues down their own throats, if they were too stupid to see it coming. But there was still a matter of all the other guards hanging around.

Of getting past the walls of the Keep with the entirety of the Tarr army after him.

He forced another deep breath.

He needed to be smart. To be calm.

Utrid read through the letter, face dropping with every word. "Oh, gods," he murmured as he reached the ends. "Oh, gods, no." He shuffled through more papers and found a report. "No, no, no, no!" He shot to his feet and hurried to the door. "Lyra be damned, he's going to assassinate Gaius Ash!"

Pratik watched him go, keeping his fists clenched but feet firmly planted in place. He'd be glad to have a moment to snoop around the office by himself. And to have a moment to breathe and get his temper under control.

He wasn't sure why Utrid was overreacting about Ash like this. Wouldn't that be the strategic thing to do in a war? Kill your enemies? That was kind of the point.

Besides, he wasn't concerned about that letter. If Lyra knew about the weakness, that meant Ash did, too. It's not like a literal child knew Ash's business better than he did himself. The man was a paranoid sociopath, but he wasn't stupid. And if it was hard for Pratik to move around that Keep, no one else was going to manage it.

Not to mention he'd passed the information along to Roland ages ago. Ash would be fine. It was Tarr and Utrid who had an assassin under their noses in this very moment.